


Questions I Can't Ask

by Bre



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3460562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/pseuds/Bre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My Olicity canon elaborations/speculations/wishes for <b>Season 3</b>.</p><p>1) Post 3x12. Fractured doesn’t meant broken.<br/>2) 3x17 spec fic. A dance.<br/>3) Silly spec fic for Arrow Season 2.5: “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.”<br/>4) Spec fic for the jet scene in 3x20. Oliver leans on Felicity when he needs her most…<br/>5) 3x22/3x23 spec fic. How we meet Damien Dahrk...<br/>6) Post 3x22 spec fic. What if Oliver had called for Felicity instead of Diggle?<br/>7) 3x23 spec fic based on promo pics.<br/>8) Post 3x22 spec fic. Oliver's thoughts during Ra's interrogation.<br/>9) The Flash 3x22 spec fic. Iris' point of view watching Oliver and Felicity's reunion.<br/>10) 3x23 spec fic. What Oliver was dreaming about...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fractured

**Author's Note:**

> I just moved, ya’ll, and I’ve been struggling to find the writing zone again. The move threw off my groove! I’m working on the tattoo AU in-between my ficlet musings, as well as another one because why not?
> 
> This is a new ficlet collection strictly for my canon elaborations. If anyone has ficlet suggestions for this collection, please send ‘em my way!

He could still taste that damn tea on his tongue.

It was a viscous coat in his mouth that he couldn’t get rid of. He’d had the last of Tatsu’s brew that morning, choking it down - easily three times more than he should be taking, but he’d torn his stitches more than he’d thought when he’d swept out of the Glades the night before after announcing his return. He was hoping a surge of it would keep any more infection from setting in.

He could just imagine the tiny eyebrow raise Tatsu would have given him had she seen him - they had parted on genial terms, but that didn't mean she didn't still think he was a moron.

He should have been used to the sour taste, but it was more pronounced than usual, like his stomach was set to a permanent boil and kept shoving penicillin-laced stomach acid up his throat.

Oliver pulled his t-shirt off, goose bumps erupting across his skin from the cold foundry air. He shivered, the tingles heading straight for the still-healing wound in his abdomen and the shallower one on his left flank. The shivers migrated down his spine, concentrating on the bruises and cuts he'd gotten when he'd fallen off the mountain.

He was a fast healer, normally, but these bruises weren’t skin-deep. They were just now starting to turn yellow, morphing into black and blue, relegated to the left side where he’d landed.

Snow wasn’t the soft cushy pillow it tried to look like; the tiny ice particulates felt just like that when you hit them dead-weight from a free fall - like slamming face-first into an ice wall.

Oliver’s eyes fluttered shut, and for a split second, he felt the rush of the ice cold air enveloping him midair, the weightlessness of the fall, the faces he had known he would never see again - the people he had failed - before he slammed into an outcrop of rock… Just as quickly as it came on, Oliver pushed it back, unwilling to go there.

It seemed the longer he was away from that mountain, the more his mind was forcing him to relive it.

Oliver gently peeled the stiff gauze off the wound that had nearly pierced his lung; the white was barely stained with blood now. He winced as the tape stuck to his skin, and he winced again when he felt the stitches he’d fixed up himself late last night shifting. It was agitated, but healing. He tossed it into the trash as he let out a heavy breath, letting the air out of his lungs slowly. 

He shifted his shoulders, stretching his arms over his head.

It had been over a week since he’d gone to fight Ra's, who had taken his own sword and shoved it through his chest. Whatever Tatsu had done when Maseo brought him to her was fast, but it wasn't fast enough. 

Still… it was preferable to what he'd felt last night.

Ra's Al Guhl could string him up and shove thirty swords in the exact same spot over and over again, and it wouldn't touch on what he'd felt when she had uttered those words.

He knew he would have hurdles with his team when he told them what he had decided. He had prepared for it, or he thought he had. He knew it was playing with fire, accepting the help from the one man in the entire world that Oliver could honestly say he hated, but… it was his only option to save Thea.

And he had to save Thea.

He had to work with Merlyn, it was his best chance to not fail against Ra’s again.

Still…

He thought he’d been ready for what she might say to him, what she would think about his decision, what she would say about their parting words, about… everything. He’d forced himself to be prepared for her accepting his decision, because that was the only thing he could let himself expect. Anything else was too much, going into territory that he had been avoiding.

_“I don’t want to be a woman you love.”_

Pained regret sliced through his chest.

Oliver closed his eyes.

He had purposefully not let himself think about her since he had woken up. Because just thinking her name, seeing her face, breathing in the mixture of her shampoo and perfume… something far too similar to hope had filled his chest, like a balloon waiting to explode, and that was dangerous. She had permeated every single dream he'd had since Ra's had kicked him off that cliff… She had been the air he breathed, the world he had seen, the place he had existed in until that first painful conscious breathe.

But nothing had changed. And nothing was going to change.

Because he had said he loved her - because he did love her - but now he was back. And everything was still the same.

_“I don’t want to be a woman you love.”_

Oliver shoved the words out of his head. He couldn't afford to think about it, he couldn’t afford to think about what the words meant, what she felt and how he felt.

Distractions.

They were distractions, distractions he couldn’t afford.

Oliver picked up his escrima sticks, spinning his wrists freely, warming up his muscles. Despite the low-grade fever and aches, he was feeling better, and beating some of his nervous energy into a dummy sounded perfect.

Except when he slammed the stick into the center of the dummy, he felt every single vibration go right down his arm and tear through the wound in his abdomen. He clenched his jaw and tightened his hold on the stick, the edges of the tape grip digging into his palm.

His hands were shaking.

'Damn it," Oliver whispered, dropping the sticks and making tight fists, but the shaking didn’t abate. It was easier to assume it was because of the wound, of the abating infection, of all the penicillin he'd inhaled, from the excitement of coming back, of seeing his city and what had become of it…

And nothing to do with a certain blonde whom he hadn’t seen since she’d walked away from him last night.

The sound of the door from Verdant upstairs clicking open caught his attention.

He glanced at the clock. It was still early afternoon - too early for her to be coming in, surely, she was still working with Palmer. He wondered who it was, and why they were coming through the club.

Oliver leaned down gently and picked up the sticks, moving to put them back as light footsteps hit the stairs and made their way down. The footsteps were too light to be Diggle or Roy… maybe it was Laurel. He still needed to talk to her; rather, he still needed to yell at her and figure out what the hell she was thinking putting on Sara's suit. Seeing that flash of blonde had nearly given him a heart attack. 

Bending down to grab his shirt, Oliver moved to tug it on when he saw Felicity instead.

His heart stopped at the sight of her, all the emotions he had been systematically shoving down appearing like a tidal wave in his gut that took his breath away.

She was paused at the bottom of the stairs, eyes on him, face tight and unreadable. He looked away quickly, cowardly wanting to turn and walk away, to not deal with what she had said, with what he had said, with the constant line of tension that had suddenly appeared between them the minute he said he was working with Merlyn.

But this was Felicity. And despite how much he wanted to turn and pretend like nothing had happened, he couldn't. He couldn't walk away, he couldn’t not look at her.

She still didn’t move and Oliver frowned, then he noticed she was balanced on one heeled foot, her other shoe in hand.

And then he saw her hands and knee, and his stomach dropped.

"Are you okay?" he asked, shirt forgotten as he moved towards her but she made a stutter step backwards, wincing when she landed on her injured foot.

Oliver froze, biting the tip of his tongue as his mind flashed back to the alley the night before. It had been deliberate then, her shaking her head as she backed away from him… now it was more like a gut reaction to stay away from him.

He'd thought it had been painful then… this time was worse.

"I didn't know you were here," she said, trying to go for conversational but it fell flat, as flat as her tone, and that made the penicillin soup in his gut churn. Felicity was not flat. She didn't do anything in half measures - hearing her voice void of life, because of him, made his insides twist.

He didn't respond, and she limped towards the medical area, making a wide berth around him. He matched her, sidestepping so there was adequate space between them, keeping his eye on her as she studiously avoided looking at him.

Her ankle was red and swollen, and she had a nasty gash on her knee, blood starting to dry in an ugly smear down her shin. Her palms were covered in scratches - it looked like she'd twisted her ankle and gone down. She dropped her bag on the med table and her shoe - the heel was broken in a jagged cut - and started opening drawers.

Oliver bit his tongue harder to keep from going to help her, and he still didn’t move.

He wanted to want to turn around and give her space, go back to the loft maybe and wait for dark to fall, go see if Thea needed help upstairs, go do… anything, anything but stand there and watch her, probably making her feel uncomfortable and even more agitated than she already was…

Instead, he asked, “Felicity, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” she replied stringently. She dabbed some alcohol onto a cotton ball and leaned over gingerly. She hissed when she accidentally put pressure on her bad ankle and she tipped over, the med table keeping her from falling.

Oliver was at her side before either of them could blink.

“Here,” he said, grabbing her elbow, grabbing the cotton ball from her fingers.

Felicity stood up, pointedly grabbing the table for balance.

Oliver gripped her arm tighter, thinking he should just swing her up on the table and clean the wounds for her, but she stiffened, and he stopped.

She gently removed her arm from his grasp.

It felt like someone dragging sandpaper across his fingertips as she pulled away from him.

“I said,” she said softly, grabbing another cotton ball, her face tight with pain and red with the effort. “I’m fine.” She spared him a glance and a smile that was more like muscle memory than anything resembling a grin. “Thanks though.”

Oliver pinched his lips, and gave her a short nod, stepping back. He waved awkwardly towards the stairs as she hobbled enough to remove her other shoe, and said, “I’ll… I, uh, need to go talk to Thea.”

“Mm,” she said by way of response, pouring more alcohol on the cotton ball, and the blasé sound was like a knife to the gut all over again. 

“If you need anything…”

“I’ll be fine,” she said again and Oliver nodded, clenching his jaw to keep from saying anything. He turned to leave.

Her choked gasp sounded small in the large space, and he realized too late he still wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Oliver froze, knowing exactly what she was seeing, but he didn’t turn. He just stopped.

Neither spoke and silence reigned for what seemed an eternity. His back felt like it was on fire, like he could feel the path her eyes were tracing as she took in the damage on his body. He felt a rush of foolishness go through him, that anyone had to see him like this, had to see what he’d been left with as a reminder of his failure, especially her. 

He still didn’t move though, and he jumped when he heard the shuffle of her legs against her skirt nearly right behind him. He moved to ask her what she was doing when she reached out and placed her hand on his left shoulder blade.

Oliver’s eyes snapped shut as a jolt of electricity snapped from her fingers and zipped through his bones. She didn’t move it, her hand resting on him, barely breathing, and after a heavy moment he bowed his head.

For the first time since he’d woken up in that tiny cabin with Maseo and Tatsu hovering over him, Oliver felt all the tension slip away. His shoulders dropped with a heavy exhale, the warmth of her hand against him doing more healing than his body had been able to do in the entire last week.

She seeped into his skin, spreading through him like a warm embrace.

He leaned back into her touch, barely, but just enough. Just enough to hear her take a shaky breath, and then she was stepping away from him, her fingers dragging across his skin, leaving behind a ghostly imprint of her touch.

Oliver’s chest felt so tight he could barely breath.

He turned his head in acknowledgement, but he didn’t dare look back at her. He didn’t trust himself. To not say the wrong thing, to not give her what she had just given him, to not tell her what had happened, and why needed to do this plan with Merlyn, to not explain to her that demons he hadn’t realized he’d brought back with him were starting to rear their ugly heads in his mind and soul, spreading through him like a plague…

Without a word, he took a step forward. And then another. And then he was grabbing his shirt and slipping it on, not bothering to hide the pained wince when it stretched his bruised muscles and stitched hole in his stomach.

He didn’t look back as he left her behind.

The End

*

I’m [dust2dust34](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, please feel free to drop by say howdy.


	2. A Crack in the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3x17 spec fic. A dance.

She was doing everything in her power to look at anything else but the dance floor.

She’d already spent too much time staring, and now she needed to not… stare.

She’d lost track of Ray a few minutes ago, Roy and Thea had wandered off and the last time she saw Laurel she’d been heading towards the restrooms. Everyone was engaged in some sort of activity except for her, which was just not working for her at the moment.

She should be grateful for the second to herself, she felt like she’d been in constant go-mode since she’d woken up that morning and gotten dressed - from the tiny hiccup this morning when she’d tried to call Captain Lance and had been rebuked, to Lyla not being able to find the garter belt that her grandmother had worn at her wedding, to nearly tripping on her face when she’d entered the reception hall.

And she hadn’t even been drinking yet.

Everything was a blur, punctuated by startling moments of clarity here and there - moments she didn’t want to think about.

Like when they’d first arrived, and the first person they’d seen was Oliver, and Felicity remembered with alarming alacrity how her hand had felt like it was burning in the crook of Ray’s arm…

Or when she’d caught him staring at her from his spot as best man when John and Lyla had been saying their vows…

Or when she’d caught that stupid bouquet, her hands burning for a very different reason…

No, thinking about those moments only had her eyes straying right back to the dance floor and that was just not going to work.

Felicity looked around for Ray and saw him talking to some men from A.R.G.U.S.

They’d barely had more than five minutes with each other since they’d arrived.

They hadn’t sat next to each other at the wedding, because the front row had been for family only - something that made her smile. The wedding had been more beautiful than she could have imagined, right out of a fairytale, which if anyone had asked her a few weeks ago if Lyla and John were going to have the classiest wedding ever, she would have scoffed.

But it worked, because _they_ worked. You just had to see the looks they shared, the tiny touches, the constant contact… it was love that took care of everything, and they had it in spades.

It was beautiful and heartwarming and…

Felicity’s eyes started to burn with unshed tears, and she rolled her eyes at herself, grabbing a napkin and dabbing them before anything fell. She wasn’t about to ruin her makeup because of happy tears.

Happy tears.

It had been a long time since she’d been able to have happy tears.

The Diggles made her _hopeful_ , something she had been sorely, sorely lacking over the last year. She’d had a touch of it over the last few weeks, that special little thought in the back of her mind that maybe things might just be okay…

But if she was being honest with herself, it hadn’t really come back in force until last week, when Oliver had come back from Nanda Parbat for the second time.

When he had actually talked to her, listened to her, let her be there for him. It had been everything she’d wanted - _needed_ \- for so long that the second it happened, it had blindsided her.

She wasn’t sure what had clicked in him, but something had, and instead of seeing the thick concrete wall he had been keeping around himself over the last several months - since that night when everything had gone straight to hell in a tattered handbasket, if she had to pick a point - she’d seen…

_Oliver._

He’d let her in, and it was like someone had found a crack in her own wall and shoved a bucket load of sunshine in.

Felicity took a deep, shaky breath. She was not going to think about that. That was a very… debunk road. She had been living on that road for too long already, stagnant and not moving - _stuck_ \- before finally deciding to back up and try a different path.

It was kind of weird that her mind was imagining her life in Google Maps all of a sudden.

This is what weddings did to her.

The sound of laughter had her looking up to see John and Lyla talking to an older couple, and she smiled wistfully when Diggle reached over and put his arm around Lyla, pulling her closer. They weren’t one for public displays of affection; they were always very good at compartmentalizing. Even during all those dinners she and Roy had had at their apartment, all the nights spent talking and listening to Sara learn her first words, they kept things calm and cool between them.

She watched Lyla lean into Diggle, resting her head on his shoulder, and there was that heartwarming feeling again.

John’s eyes slid around the room quickly, taking everything in, making sure it was all in order, when his eyes landed on her. She smiled at him, and he gave her a small, happy grin.

And then he looked at the dance floor, and the softest look she’d seen yet crossed his face.

Against her better judgment, Felicity followed his gaze, and the burn of the tears was back. She blinked rapidly, looking away again, wrapping her fingers around the stem of her champagne glass.

When she looked up, John was looking right at her with an annoyingly knowing look and she looked away.

And right at the dance floor.

Right at where Oliver was dancing with little Sara in his arms, her frilly dress flowing over his arm, fluttering in the air as he held one of her tiny hands in his, twirling her about. Sara went from giving him a wide grin and a squeal of laughter when he dipped her in the air to looking at the lights dangling from the ceiling and back to him when he said something and then around at the other couples dancing.

Felicity swallowed, blinking, something hot and painful building in her chest as she watched him with John’s daughter.

He had gone to extraordinary lengths to avoid Sara for a long while after she had been born. Annoyingly extraordinary, to the point where Diggle had finally asked him if he was allergic to small children. And then he’d gradually let himself be around her more, until… well, until he wasn’t.

And then he’d come back, where nothing had been right - _nothing_ had been right - and then even more nothing was right, until something changed.

Something was shifting in him. She could feel it, she could _see_ it. There had been so much light in him all those months ago, before the new and improved Vertigo had turned their lives into kindling. She remembered watching him shove all that light into a box deep inside himself and shove it far, far away, where not even she could reach it. And she had tried, for a long time, but he’d kept pushing her away…

And then he’d _died_ …

But he’d come back.

And now something was… shifting.

And she didn’t know what any of it meant.

Oliver suddenly looked up, like he could feel her eyes on him, and he met her gaze. A few weeks ago she would have looked away; she would have hidden behind her own very large and durable wall that she had erected around her heart to keep him as far away from it as possible, but this time…

This time she didn’t, and neither did he, and all the weeks of tension - of weirdness, of anger, of frustration - melted away.

And she felt that crack in the wall widen a bit more, felt more of that light starting to break through, and when his lips curled up into a hint of a smile, his arms tightening around the precious cargo in his arms, she smiled back.

The room melted away, the music slowly faded, and there was nothing but them. 

And then Sara was pressing her hand against his mouth, her lips moving in an unintelligible blur of words that yanked Oliver’s attention back to her, and when he tried to bite her fingers, she let out a squeal of delight, and that crack inside Felicity broke a bit more.

When Oliver glanced back at her, his eyes dark with all the unspoken thoughts he’d barely let her see the night they went on that date, the entire stupid thing crumbled away and for a split second she saw herself out there with him, dancing in a dress that was most assuredly _not_ red, with a much older Sara dancing with her dad next them as Oliver held Felicity in one arm and in the other…

Their daughter.

“Whoa,” Felicity said under her breath, inhaling quickly at that thought, her fingers wrapping tightly around the stem of her champagne glass. She shifted in her chair, looking around blindly as she whispered, “So not going there…” 

She looked around for a few seconds before her traitorous eyes were inevitably drawn back to him.

Oliver’s face was soft with knowledge, like he could see right into her heart, and she saw him take a deep breath as they stared at each other… before he suddenly stiffened.

And then someone touched her shoulder.

Felicity jumped, whirling around to see Ray sitting down next to her, his fingers lingering on her shoulder before dragging down her bare arm.

“Hi,” she said, forcing her lips to move back into a smile. Ray grinned at her, his eyes on the dance floor, and she spared it a quick glance, seeing that Oliver had turned his back to them.

“You wanna dance?” Ray asked. “My mom always told me those classes she made me go to would come in handy one day.”

“Uh… no,” Felicity said with a shake of her head. “No. I don’t…

“I don’t dance.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the idea of Oliver dancing with a baby Sara in his arms - I hope you liked it!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my muse and soul.


	3. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silly spec fic for Arrow Season 2.5: “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on an anon prompt, “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.” Anon, you didn’t specify if you wanted this done for the Heartbeats smutlet collection, so I took it in a fluffier, sillier direction. Because I felt cracky last night.

The room was swimming.

Oliver blinked.

The walls were covered in waves.

_“You had to wake up before John got back with my phone charger, didn’t you? You start the silly babbling when my phone is dead. If you were more awake, I’d think you were doing this on purpose, Oliver.”_

The voice leaned closer to him and it felt like someone was peeling away layers of his skin the closer it got. In a good way.

He saw her floating above him, a small smile on her face.

_“Hey, sleepyhead. So, you’re an onion now, huh? Okay. Very ogre of you.”_

He tried to move towards her - towards the light - but his arms felt like they were filled with lead.

And his leg was on fire.

He felt like he was back in that tent with Ivo, when he’d first gotten to Lian Yu. When he’d been captured, before he knew what real pain was. When the slice of a knife across his chest felt like someone pouring acid into his skin…

That was what his leg felt like.

Someone else came in, moving slow as molasses, barely pushing through the moving waves on the walls.

_“Oh, hi.”_

Why was she the only one not moving in slow motion?

_“Oh no, don’t mind me, I’m just here to check his vitals, make sure he’s coming out of the anesthesia okay. I see he’s trying.”_

The surgery had not been his idea.

In fact, if anyone had bothered to ask him, or at least wait for him to wake up, he would have gladly informed them that he was perfectly fine. He’d been up and around on his knee for months after Roy had nearly ruptured one of his ligaments in his Mirakuru rage.

She patted his cheek before fingers tapped on his lips. 

_“Oh my god, Oliver, you are giving away state secrets, shush! People say the wackiest things on drugs, don’t they?”_

Her laughter was pure sunshine.

_“Look at that, from drugs to sunshine.”_

She patted his cheek again and he blindly turned towards her hand.

_“Silly Oliver.”_

The surgery hadn’t been that silly.

The lidocaine the doctor had given him as his way of saying thanks for paving the way for the hospital supplies to make it to Starling General had masked the worst of the knee pain; he’d been left with a dull ache every now and then, only exacerbated when he was on it too long or hit the ground from a jump especially hard.

The fingers were on his lips again and he wanted to taste them. Taste the sunshine.

_“Oliver, stop. Talking.”_

The other someone walked away and then the voice was leaning over him again, and he blinked, unable to see her face, only seeing light everywhere around her.

He yearned towards it but his leaden limbs stopped him. 

_“Really, Oliver, babbling about Mirakuru and receiving illegal drugs from a doctor, of all the things you can babble about. This is something that happens to me, not the most stoic man on the planet.”_

He had been fine.

_“Yes, I know you’d been fine, but now you’re even more fine. You’re very fine. Not… fine, as in I’m-checking-you-out fine, because that would be sort of inappropriate right now since you just got out of surgery and you definitely look like you just got out of surgery…”_

Her hand ran over his forehead and he turned into the touch, her fingers drifting down to his shoulder as she continued.

_“Not that you are any less fine right now, I’d even wager you’re cuter because you’re doing this lost puppy face thing that is just… not… the point of this, so yes, you’re fine. As in your knee was salvaged from that brick wall. Which, we will be talking about how someone managed to mess up the brakes on your car because… “_

Right.

His knee had been fine until he’d gotten into a car accident.

A fucking car accident.

_“Geez, who knew anesthesia made you so cranky.”_

*

Oliver was gone.

Felicity had left the room for literally a total of three minutes.

That was it.

How was it possible that a man who had just gone through major knee surgery and was hopped up on way too many drugs including a nerve block numbing his entire leg from the hip down…

How was it possible he was doing _anything_ , much less getting up and moving around?

Oliver blissfully high on drugs was a sight to see.

It didn’t surprise her that he had pulled himself out of the drug haze he was currently in. She was surprised she hadn’t heard about him opening his eyes during surgery and asking what the hell the surgeon thought he was doing with that scope before threatening to use it with some wacky Arrow-trick to do real damage if they didn’t get out of his knee.

She would always remember the look on Oliver’s face when the doctor told him the car accident had completely ruptured the ligament that had already been stretched to its limits: petulant anger and actual pouting, followed by a heated discussion about the real need for surgery before she’d talked him into shutting up and just getting it over with.

And she would definitely always remember Oliver when he was high on drugs.

If anything because he kept calling her sunshine. 

The one time she was without her tablet…

Except now things weren’t so funny.

The first thing Felicity looked at when she went back into his hospital room was his bed, and she fully expected to see him sitting there, staring at his hands and commenting on the rainbows coming out of his fingertips - “The sunshine makes prisms, Felicity. _Prisms_ ” - but he wasn’t there.

Oliver was not there.

Alarm shot through her and she stopped short.

He couldn’t have gone far, his leg had literally just been cut into barely over an hour ago.

“Oliver?” she asked, eyes flying to the window, but it was still sealed as she had left it. Everything was as she had left it except she was missing an _Oliver Queen_. “Oliver, where’d you go? Now is really not the time for hide and seek.”

Felicity blinked, wondering if maybe drugs by osmosis was actually a thing when she caught movement out the corner of her eye.

She spun towards the bathroom and saw Oliver hobbling out, trying to tug what was left of his Henley over his head and over the slightly blood-spattered white t-shirt he had managed to get on. His head finally slipped through the material, barely, when he spotted her, and his entire face brightened like she’d just offered him a cupcake made of crack.

He swayed, and she took a step towards him - like she’d be able to do anything if the giant lug actually fell - when Oliver huffed, leaving the shirt bunched around his neck.

“Oliver, what are you doing?” Felicity asked, checking to see how his leg was doing. “Why are you…”

The words died as she realized the white shirt was long enough to cover… his man region, but it wasn’t _long enough_.

Felicity let out a sharp meep when she saw… _it_.

“Felicity,” he breathed, the word coming out in jolted sounds, and he was definitely off his rocker. He’d fallen so far off his rocker, he couldn’t see the rocker. _She_ couldn’t see the rocker. No, all she could see was… _it_. “I needed to tell you something.”

“Oh?” 

“It’s very. Important.”

It took Felicity about thirty seconds to realize she was _still staring at his it_ \- she couldn’t even _think_ the word - when reality crashed back into place.

Oliver was standing before her, somehow having taken off the shorts and gown he’d worn into surgery and was now only wearing a white t-shirt, his gray Henley wrapped around his neck like a really ugly scarf and…

_Nothing else._

“Oh my god. Oliver!” Felicity gasped, squeezing her eyes shut and spinning away from him blindly. She stumbled, her hand reaching out to grab anything and she found the wall.

“Felicity, so important,” he said, and she heard him coming closer to her and she slipped her hand under her glasses, covering her eyes as she took a few steps away from him, nearly running into a chair.

“Oliver, stop, stop moving.”

“Why.”

“Why? Really, why? Oliver…” 

“I thought of a song about the sunshine,” he slurred. “You are my sunshine…”

“Oh my god, is this really happening?” she asked and then she heard him moving again. Felicity rushed away from him, barely opening her eyes in time to avoid running face-first into another wall.

“Where you going?” he asked.

“Oliver, I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.” 

“Why would I put underwear over my pants?”

The giggle slipped out before she could stop it and she bit her tongue. “Oliver, you are _not_ wearing pants. You are wearing literally the exact opposite of pants, which is actually… nothing. So much nothing, and oh my god, I saw your… I saw… and it was so not nothing…”

The full gravity of what she had most definitely seen - and she was equal parts mortified and shocked that she was thinking, “Oh my god, the bulge doesn’t even do him justice” - set in and she laughed at the incredibleness of this moment before she could stop herself, biting her lips together.

“I love when you laugh,” he mused from behind her. “I love when you do everything.”

“Oliver.”

“You are sunshine, and I _need_ sunshine.”

The swoosh of the hospital door opening interrupted him and Felicity spun towards it, eyes wide, lips pinched in embarrassment, as Diggle stopped dead in his tracks.

“I made this song,” Oliver continued, not giving two craps that Diggle had come in, or that the man had frozen at the sight of a half-naked, drugged up Oliver, the hospital door slowly closing behind him, her phone charger dangling from his fingertips. “Diggle. Diggle, I made this song for Felicity. Sing it with me.”

Diggle’s wide eyes slowly ticked to Felicity, whose face erupted in a hot blush.

The man went from talking about sunshine to layers to swimming walls to prisms to the car accident and to saying way too much about Mirakuru.

He was way out of it.

Way out of it, which meant she should way not pay attention. Which meant she should not realize her heart had skipped a few beats at Oliver’s words, or that her palms were suddenly clammy or that she was pretty sure she’d forgotten how to use her diaphragm.

And none of that was because she had seen his… it.

“Diggle, she is sunshine,” Oliver said, his words erratically emphasized but still very matter-of-fact.

“Is that so?” Diggle asked, barely containing his smirk and Felicity closed her eyes.

“I think…” she said, keeping her eyes very, very far away from Oliver. “I think I’m gonna… go. Coffee. Get… coffee. Bye.”

Diggle lifted his hand as she strode past him, and she grabbed her phone charger, barely remembering how to work the flat-handle on the hospital room door before she had it open.

“Alright, Queen, let’s get your high ass back in bed, huh? And why the hell are you not wearing any pants?”

“Sunshine, Diggle. _Sunshine_.”

“Yeah, we’ll get you some of that sunshine here real soon.”

“No, _you_ just sent it away…” was the last thing Felicity heard before the door closed.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A silly fic. I never write silly fics. It was time for one. I have a smutty idea for this prompt too that I’ll save for a rainy day. 
> 
> I'm [dust2dust34 on Tumblr](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/), come say howdy!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my muse and soul.


	4. A Shoulder to Lean On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spec fic for the jet scene in 3x20. Oliver leans on Felicity when he needs her most…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received this prompt this morning, and I wanted to get it out before 3x20 airs. Partly based on speculation about why this is the Captain’s favorite scene, and what they share...

Oliver hadn’t moved since they’d boarded. He hadn’t done anything past watching the paramedics wheel her onto the plane, setting her up in the basic bed in the far private cabin, moving silently, nobody speaking. They’d brought special equipment, things that bolted into holes he had never noticed before in the floor to make sure her IV didn’t roll away, the machine keeping track of her heartbeat didn’t move; making sure _she_ didn’t move. They’d fashioned rails that hooked onto the sides of the bed, just in case.

Just in case what, though... what else could possibly happen to her?

His sister had been run through with a sword. She’d been gutted, with no other purpose than to be a pawn on a monster’s chess board. Another bloody move in a game that had been going on for far too long.

She’d bled out, too much, so much so that she should have been declared legally dead five times over, until they’d jump-started her heart each time.

Five. Times.

Oliver hadn’t been able to breathe since he found her. Everything was a blur in his memory - he remembered coming home, seeing the shattered wine glass, the scuff marks from a harsh fight on the floor, and… and Thea, laying in the broken glass of the table she’d been thrown through, a pool of blood much too big surrounding her in a morbid celebration of life.

He didn’t remember reacting, although there was evidence: slices from the glass through his jeans at his knees and shins said he’d landed next to her; the cuts in his palms from crawling over the glass; the dried blood still stained in his fingernails, deeply embedded in the cracks of his skin, from holding her.

He did remember lifting her, feeling how cold she was, how _lifeless_ she had been… before some semblance of sanity had him grabbing his phone.

But when he’d moved to pull it out of his pocket, she’d slipped from his grasp - she was soaked through with her blood, _their_ blood - and she’d landed on the edge of the broken coffee table with a sickening thud that made everything inside him revolt.

He didn’t remember the call, or the paramedics arriving, but he did remember every excruciating minute of waiting for a heartbeat. The first time it came back, the relief had walloped him, before they lost her again.

And then a second time.

When it happened for a third time, he’d turned and vomited.

On the fourth, he’d let out an inhuman noise that he hadn’t thought he’d been capable of.

On the fifth, though, they’d managed to keep her and Oliver had grabbed her hand, holding her so tightly the paramedics had had to pry him off to get her into the ambulance.

At the hospital, after calling Digg, calling Felicity… he’d been told Thea was in a coma, that the sword had sliced through her sternum, lancing her liver, stomach and gallbladder, that they’d had to remove portions of the organs because they’d been too shredded, and the gutting had cut cleanly through the side of three of her vertebrae.

Even if she did wake up, which it was a miracle she had survived at all, she’d be paralyzed.

He’d known the instant he saw her who had done it, why he had done, and what he had to do. He knew what Ra’s planned to gain from this, knew what he held over Oliver’s head: the Lazarus Pit.

And he knew that Oliver would do _anything_ to save his sister.

_Anything._

The plane rumbled around him as he sat, staring at his sister’s prone body. She was pale, ashen even, her skin sunken in, barely managing to sustain herself.

Emotion choked him, filling his chest until it was ready to explode, tears burning his eyes. He wanted to reach out, touch her, hold her hand and tell her how sorry he was, that this never should have happened to her. It should have been him, it should always have been him...

But he also wanted to tell her how proud of her he was.

For fighting.

For surviving.

Now it was time for him to carry her the rest of the way, and he damn well would.

Oliver scrubbed his face, rubbing his eyes until they were raw before he took a shaky breath.

Thea didn’t move, didn’t change. But she would.

She would survive.

But he didn’t let himself think about any of it. He couldn’t think about it, what it meant, what he was going to have to become, what he was giving up, because when he did, he felt doubt. A tiny niggle of doubt in the back of his mind that was asking, _“Why him?”_

He knew why, he absolutely knew why him.

It was his fate, it had always been his fate, from the moment he took his first step into a lifestyle of lies, deceit and debauchery. From the first person he betrayed, to the first person he killed, to the first step towards fixing someone else’s life mistakes, because his own were irreparable.

He’d always known he was going to drown in the evils he’d trailed behind him his entire life; it only made all the things he’d been pushing off, pushing away, sit like a gravestone in his stomach, a bitter pill that slowly grew tentacles, sneaking through his insides until he was suffocating.

Oliver Queen didn’t get a happy ending.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts and he sat up straighter, looking over as Felicity opened the door, popping her head in.

“Hi,” she said softly, her eyes darting to Thea.

Oliver followed them to his sister, and his throat shut before he could get any words out. Instead he gave her a tearful smile, blinking to get rid of the tears as he swallowed past the lump.

She gave him a small, sad smile, one also full of warmth and understanding, She stepped into the small room, closing the door behind her.

“Is she…”

“The same,” he said, his voice coming out in a croak and he cleared his throat, wiping his face. He gave her an appraising look, remembering the state she’d arrived at the airport in. “Are you okay?”

Felicity gave him a small eye roll, moving around him to sit on the other side of the tiny sofa he was perched on. She patted his knee as she passed him, saying, “I’m pretty much the least of your concerns right now, Oliver.”

The words, _‘No, you are right at the top,’_ nearly left his mouth before he bit his tongue to stop them.

“I meant with… Ray.”

“Oh.” She sat down, readjusting, inadvertently pressing against him in a way that had him bristling to stop himself from pressing closer as well as stopping himself from standing up to get away from the temptation. “He, uh… well, he said I wouldn’t offer _you_ hospital jello.”

Hospital jello? He gave her an incomprehensible look, not following that line of logic, or what Ray would ever have to say about him that might concern hospital jello.

"What?”

She glanced over at him. “It’s nothing. Well, it wasn’t nothing, but it wasn’t… anything, either. And he kind of... knew that.” She waved her hand, not looking at him as he watched her. She kept her eyes on Thea.  
“It’s not important. I’m here, that’s all that matters.”

Oliver felt the overwhelming desire to reach out and take her hand but he stopped himself. Instead he gave the side of her face a smile, his eyes tracing her features and he looked away just as she looked at him.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his eyes on Thea.

He caught her smile out the corner of his eye, but he didn’t look at her again. Instead, he watched her watch him, his lungs starting to burn from not breathing until she finally looked away.

A heavy moment passed. His mind raced from all the things that hospital jello could possibly mean, to Thea’s condition, to what the entire thing was reminding him of, to what waited for him in Nanda Parbat.

Felicity reached over and tapped his temple.

“I can hear the wheels in your head working way overtime, mister,” she said, and he looked at her. She cocked her head. “I’m here. I mean, to talk. You know I’m here, you have eyes, but I mean to talk. If you want to.”

Oliver sighed. He turned back to Thea, not saying anything for a second.

“I don’t...” His tone affirmed everything he couldn’t put into words. “I don’t want to do this, but I...”

“Oliver,” Felicity said, cutting him off. She grabbed his arm, gripping him tightly. “You’ll do whatever it takes to save your sister. There’s no shame in that.”

He gave her a smile, one of gratitude and amazement at how well she knew him, and instead of looking away, he let his eyes linger on her.

After a moment, a light blush filled her cheeks and she raised her eyebrows in question.

“But... what I’m giving up,” he said, and her entire demeanor shifted at the weight in his words. “Felicity, it’s not...”

“Oliver, stop.” Felicity wound her arm through his, her fingers tangling with his. She squeezed his hand tightly, reassuringly, as she smiled at him. “You need to save Thea. That’s all that matters.”

A flood of tears made his eyes burn again as he stared at her, using his eyes to show her everything he’d been burying as deep as he possibly could since their ill-fated dinner.

She opened her mouth, like she wanted to say something, but she changed her mind, shaking her head instead. Now wasn’t the time. And she was right.

The time had passed.

Oliver nodded, looking away.

Felicity didn’t say anything.

Instead she squeezed his hand again and leaned back on the sofa, pulling him with her. He held fast for a second, and she huffed, grabbing his shoulder until he relented, settling back with her.

Oliver held onto her tightly, staring at Thea, feeling like he was holding onto two different worlds: in one hand was Thea, in the other was Felicity. He didn’t like the dichotomy of it. They should be _one_.

The words were coming out before he could stop them.

“When I was in Hong Kong, I wasn’t fast enough to save someone,” he said, his voice cracking as he watched Thea’s chest rise and fall in shallow breaths. “His name was Akio. It’s a... it’s a long story, but there was a virus, and an antidote, and...”

He paused, and after a moment, Felicity squeezed his hand, silently urging him on.

“He was just a kid, he had no business being there. It was because of me that they were there at all.” He knew he wasn’t making sense, that Felicity had no idea who he was talking about, what he was talking about, but she didn’t make a sound. She just sat there, silent, letting him talk, being there for him, a shoulder to lean on, to help hold him up. “His metabolism was too fast.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Of all the things that could go wrong.”

His voice cracked again and he closed his eyes, feeling a flash of guilt when he saw Thea in his arms instead of Akio in the memory.

“The virus went airborne before I could get him back to the lab, to another antidote. His parents were waiting for me to bring him back. Tatsu had been wounded, and Maseo... he trusted me to bring Akio back. Because I had before, although that had just been blind luck, really. I wasn’t... I couldn’t...”

Oliver opened his eyes, and instead of Thea on the bed, he saw Akio.

“He died. In my arms, right outside the lab. We were right there, so close, but... there wasn’t enough in his system to protect him, and... and he...” Oliver took a deep breath, closing his eyes as a hot tear slipped down his cheek. He brushed it away, rubbing his eyes roughly with his free hand, giving voice to his fears. “Felicity, If I couldn’t...”

“No, Oliver,” Felicity said, stopping him in his tracks.

He opened his eyes, looking over at her.

She stared up at him, eyes drifting over his tired face, his sunken cheeks; bloodshot eyes full of tears that spoke more volumes about pain and grief and anguish than any one person had the right to be privy to.

She held his hand tighter in hers and reached over.

Oliver’s heart skipped a couple dozen beats in anticipation, his cheek tingling with the ghostly feel of her touch before it even happened, but she suddenly stopped short, her hand falling.

She gave him a small smile.

“You are the most amazing man I have ever known,” she said softly, staring into his eyes, and for a split second, he believed her.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

And then Felicity sighed, her eyes dropping down to his lips before looking away.

Oliver watched her take a breath, letting it out slowly, and then she turned back to Thea, resting her head on Oliver’s shoulder. She curled in closer to him, holding him as much as he was holding her, their fingers still intertwined, her arm wrapped around his.

Oliver looked back at Thea, listening to the reassuring beep of her heartbeat, the even breaths of the woman he loved beside him... he let himself rest his head on Felicity’s as they leaned on each other, taking solace, gathering strength and comfort in the final hours before the darkness.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.
> 
> Hospital Jell-o line was too good for me - blatantly “borrowed” from [Jenny Raftery’s review of 3x19](http://www.vulture.com/2015/04/arrow-recap-season-3-episode-19.html).


	5. Spilt Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3x22/3x23 spec fic. How we meet Damien Dahrk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - tivashipper-cotedepablo asked: Prompt: in Nanda Parbat, someone is pointing to Oliver/Al Sah-him with an arrow and he says "it takes more than a simple arrow to stop me" and the other person says "then I will place where it hurts the most" and the person shots Felicity.

**“Then I will place it where it hurts the most.”**

Oliver’s heart stopped. The softly spoken words rattled around in his head as he tried to decipher them, to understand their meaning - everything he held dear was locked up, _safe_ \- but the masked man was already moving.

He shifted to his right, cocked his head, his blue hazel eyes narrowing slightly before letting the arrow loose.

It left the bow with such strength and precision that Oliver barely saw it before it disappeared in a swirl of dust behind him. Oliver fought the urge to turn, to see what he was shooting at, but he didn’t hear it hit anything. He frowned, his ears straining for any change in his surroundings, unwilling to turn his back on the man, but nothing happened.

The man’s eyes crinkled, like he was smiling at him from behind the heavy black facial mask, like he knew exactly what Oliver was thinking.

The man instantly relaxed his stance, the smile never leaving his face as he swung his arms out, bowing dramatically where he still stood over the dead body of the now former Ra’s Al Ghul, his boots standing in the large pool of blood slowly growing around the gaping wound in the dead man’s throat.

A finely-crafted needle-nosed arrow had his hand pinned to his neck where it had pierced through him. His hand had come up, quicker than the eye, to stop the arrow, but the arrow had been designed for just that movement, because it had sliced through his former master’s palm and straight into his jugular.

The spurt of blood would have been beautifully poetic had it not been by hands other than Oliver’s.

Oliver didn’t need to see the man’s face to know who he was.

Even if the mask was gone, he wouldn’t have recognized him, but the whispered, “Damien…” that Ra’s had breathed when the man had appeared…

This was an unexpected development, and one Oliver wasn’t prepared to face. They’d thought about every contingency, every what-if; every single plan had been put through vigorous test-runs with Maseo to find any weaknesses that needed to be addressed in the several weeks following up to this very moment…

But not this.

The only thing he knew about Damien Darhk was what Ra’s had told him: he was lethal, the one failure in his legacy as Ra’s Al Ghul; that he’d created his own version of the League of Assassins under the mysterious acronym H.I.V.E.; and that he’d stolen some of the Lazarus Pit water, which was evident since, judging by the man’s youthful eyes, he didn’t look a day over thirty.

Oliver didn’t move as the man chuckled. He nudged the corpse at his feet with his boot before looking back to Oliver. “This was the wrong man to teach you how to overcome the tragedy of human attachment, Mr. Queen.”

The sound of his real name on his lips should have been all the indication Oliver needed to attack this man with everything he had and end it now, except Darhk pointed his bow towards where he’d shot the arrow off…

… just as Oliver heard the sound of rushed footsteps and someone collapsing, followed by a loud, “Damn it, no, Felicity!”

Everything inside Oliver turned to ice with dread as the man’s ominous words and the arrow suddenly made a horrific kind of sense.

“No,” Oliver rasped, logic dictating he’d locked them all in the dungeon for this implicit reason - to keep them out of danger, out of his way so he could act without them dictating his reactions - while his heart told him that was the stupidest thing he could have possibly assumed.

He knew his team - his partners, his _family_ \- better than that; he knew they would never let him face this alone, no matter what he had done to them to get to this point…

Oliver was already moving before he could tell himself either way, every instinct telling him to get to Felicity as fast as he could. He ran towards the sound of John’s shouts, the sharp sound of Tatsu’s katana as she took down League members, of Laurel’s grunts as she fought, of Palmer’s tech as he shot something off…

He didn’t care about any of that as he rushed through the dusty landscape - _nothing mattered except reaching Felicity_ \- but he stuttered to a hard stop when he found them.

The area was a mix of dead earth and black blurs of his League as they attacked the intruders. Diggle laid in the middle of a loose circle formed by Katana, Palmer and Laurel, all fighting League members, and Felicity… she was cradled in John’s arms, a thin stream of blood dribbling down her chin, her eyes on her red-stained hands, staring at the arrow protruding from her abdomen.

“No,” Oliver whispered again, shaking his head, blinking, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, because… it couldn’t be real.

It couldn’t be happening.

No, _not like this._

Not like this, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Not like this.

_“STOP!”_

Everyone immediately froze at the sound of Oliver’s commanding voice echoing over the dry landscape, the voice of Al Sah-him mixed in with the desperation of Oliver Queen, but Oliver didn’t see any of it.

He didn’t care.

He only had eyes for Felicity, and when she looked up at him, their eyes connecting over the space between them, he felt reconnected to her in a way he hadn’t let himself feel since their night together.

“Oliver,” she whispered.

Oliver rushed to her, skidding to a stop on his knees at her side. His vision blurred from tears as he raised his shaky hands to hover over the arrow that moved up and down with her uneven breaths. Her white shirt - the one he’d let himself think, for a split second, that she’d worn for him because it was about fifty thousand miles away from appropriate desert-wear - was already soaked through with her blood.

“Felicity,” he whispered, his voice cracking and she let out a wet chuckle.

“He speaks,” she said, her tone joking, but the words sliced through him like he was the one with an arrow in the gut. There wasn’t time for ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘Please understand’ or ‘I love you, please don’t fucking die _now_ , not when we’re so close’.

She winced, trying her best to hide the pain, but doing a piss-poor job of it.

“Hi,” she said softly, her eyes glued to his, and he didn’t look away as he whispered back, “Hi.”

Her eyes fluttered shut for an instant, but she forced them open, like she didn’t want to waste a second of what she had left _not_ looking at him.

Oliver shoved down the burst of fear-filled grief that was threatening to overtake him. He reached out, brushing her sweaty forehead with dusty fingers, leaving streaks behind, his other hand gripping her upper thigh tightly as Diggle helped push her hands harder against the wound to staunch the blood, making her groan.

Oliver gritted his teeth, wishing with every fiber in his being he could take her pain, carry it for her.

“How bad is it?” Oliver asked, the question directed at Diggle.

He felt more than saw the hard glare Diggle leveled his way. “It’s not good, Oliver.”

Oliver met Diggle’s eyes for a split second, everything over the last several days disappearing in the face of the moment at hand.

Biting his lip, Oliver stared at the arrow… and then he frowned when he saw the tiny flashing light at the very tip of it… looking almost like a honing device.

Felicity suddenly coughed, a small rivulet of blood slipping past her lips. It stained her teeth, sliding down her chin, and Oliver moved without thought again.

“We gotta get her out of here,” he said, slipping his arms under her to pick her up, ignoring both Diggle’s, “Does that freaky deaky priestess of yours also have an operating room we didn’t see?” and Felicity’s horrible hiss of pain mixing with a painful sob when she abruptly stiffened before he could stand.

Oliver froze, his eyes roving over her. “What is it?”

Felicity didn’t reply. She stared unblinking over his shoulder with wide eyes, a harsh bodily gasp falling from her lips as she forgot about the arrow in her stomach, blindly grasping at Oliver with bloodied fingers, like she’d suddenly been tossed overboard into a hurricane and needed something to hold on to.

Oliver turned.

Damien Darhk stood behind him, his mask off, and Oliver’s jaw dropped when he saw his fully.

He was the perfect mirror image of Felicity.

Darhk didn’t notice the gasps of recognition, or the stares; he only had eyes for his… daughter.

“Dad?” Felicity croaked, her voice catching, wet and ugly from the blood flooding her throat. Oliver’s eyes slid to her on instinct, wanting to shield her from everything - _everything_ , including the fact that _this man_ was her _father_? - but every single inch of survival’s intuition had him swinging his head back to Darhk, unwilling to give the man his back one more time.

It wasn’t just him anymore. The woman he loved more than anything in this world was right there with him, and he would die a thousand deaths before he put her in any more harm’s way.

And it definitely did not escape his attention that it was her father’s arrow that had done this to her.

Oliver’s arms tightened around her, and she moaned in pain, but he didn’t let her go, his eyes not leaving Darhk.

Darhk could only stare at Felicity.

“Hi there, pumpkin belly,” he said, his voice so soft and amiable it was like he was a completely different person. Oliver felt Felicity’s body clench with tense sobs, her body trying to not move, but the sudden surge of emotions were too much to be contained.

Her trembling grew so bad he felt it rattling in his bones as Darhk kneeled down next to them.

“What…” Felicity started, but Darhk just shook his head.

“Shh,” he said softly, blinking - even their eyes were nearly identical. He let out a sad sigh. “I’ve missed you, Felicity.”

Oliver felt her stiffen against him, almost like she was flinching away from Darhk, as the moment caught up with her, as the last several years caught up with her - the years this man had been gone, the questions she and Donna must have had, where he was, _who_ he was, and now… why he was _here_ … 

So many implications ran through Oliver’s head it made his head throb.

They both mutely watched Darhk as he pushed back onto his feet.

“I understand your anger, Felicity,” he said. His eyes slid to Oliver’s. “You’re lucky to have found a man who loves you so deeply.” Felicity jerked in Oliver’s arms and he held her closer as the next sigh Darhk let out sounded… regretful.

“Which is why I’m so sorry I have to do this.”

Before the words were fully out, Darhk pulled out the short paramerion sword from his belt and aimed the blade straight for Oliver’s neck.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/117920647584/prompt-in-nanda-parbat-someone-is-pointing-to)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	6. The Most Precious Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post 3x22 spec fic. What if Oliver had called for Felicity instead of Diggle?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - nikkibeckettcsm asked: So I'm a hypocrite or enabler. Probably both. I have a prompt for you, angst prompt what if instead of Diggle being called to Oliver's room. Oliver calls for Felicity and they talk about this wedding, among other things.

“Warith Al Ghul commands your presence.”

Felicity stared up at the masked man, frozen; his shadowed eyes stared down at her, impassive, as he waited for her to stand and do as she’d been instructed to.

Warith Al Ghul… 

Oliver.

“That’s not happening,” Diggle replied, moving to stand, and Felicity almost let him as the fact that he was marrying Nyssa Al Ghul - god, even thinking the words left her mouth ashy - echoed in her memory… 

Felicity’s hand swung out, grabbing Diggle’s arm before he could get up completely as she shook her head.

“No, it’s fine,” Felicity said, looking back at the assassin, her voice matching his monotonous tone. “I’ll go.”

“Felicity, you don’t have to,” Diggle said, and Felicity caught the man’s eye switch to Diggle,, the threat clear.

She did have to, even if she really didn’t want to.

Nobody said anything as the man bent down, unhooking her shackles from the ring in the ground.

She’d thought she’d be taken to another cell. To the freaky room where Thea had been brought back to life. Heck, even outside… The last place she expected to be taken to was the same room Oliver had had when they’d first come to Nanda Parbat.

Felicity recognized the doors immediately, and her heart started to climb up her throat with sharp claws before they even opened the door for her.

Biting the tip of her tongue, Felicity closed her eyes for a long moment, forcing herself to take a deep breath. She didn’t know what to think. She had to believe that anything that was Oliver couldn’t possibly exist in the man who had made the choices he had on the other side of the doors. He’d specifically chosen to take Lyla, away from Sara - _in front_ of Sara - and then held her hostage. He’d specifically chosen to nearly kill Diggle, to let everyone think he was going to kill Diggle. He’d specifically chosen to _not_ tell them anything about this alleged plan that was in motion, that had been _in motion_ …

And then he’d turned around just a moment ago, looking straight at her, asking her to trust him…

And she did. She still trusted him despite every ounce of common sense in her body telling her that was the stupidest thing she could do… but her gut didn’t lie.

It wasn’t love or loyalty that made her trust Oliver. She just did. She trusted him, and if her gut said it was the right thing to do, then… she’d trust him.

Except… only a few weeks ago she’d professed her love to him, and they’d made love in the very room he was waiting for her in…

And he’d just announced he was marrying Nyssa.

The doors opened.

Felicity paused, her eyes finding Oliver through a light sheen of tears. His face was made of stone as he looked at her, and that was all she needed to see.

She wasn’t here for him to confess his sins, to ask her to understand, to tell her that he was wrong, that he couldn’t go through with this…

Malcolm had said there was a plan… and Oliver had asked her to trust him.

Fine.

For the second time in her life, Felicity stepped into that specific room, her skin crawling with awareness and memories, feeling his ghostly touch as he’d picked her up, carrying her to the…

Felicity stopped her thoughts right there, moving until she was standing in front of Oliver. He barely glanced her way before stepping around her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her still-shackled hands together tightly, letting the bite of the metal ground her.

“Leave us,” Oliver said softly to the other League members and they did just that.

Silence.

Felicity took a breath, her mouth moving without her realizing it, “I know this room has a killer view, but I didn’t think it would be the best-”

Oliver had already been moving the instant the doors shut.

He was before her, a blur of darkness, and his hands cupped her face as he pressed his lips to hers.

Felicity let out a tiny squeak of shock, her eyes widening before muscle memory took over. Muscle memory… that wasn’t true. Muscle memory didn’t come from a single night of passion, a night where they’d only been able to touch each other for a moment…

This was more.

It was wishful thinking.

False hope.

_Lies._

And for a split second, Felicity gave in, gave in to the gentle press of his lips against hers, letting herself fly back to that night when he’d kissed her just like this, his tongue running along her bottom lip, and she almost let him in…

Almost.

Then the second was over, and Felicity gasped, wrenching away from him the same time she shoved on his chest, the sound of her imprisonment - at his hands - filling the room when her shackles clanked together.

“You don’t get to do that,” Felicity said. She was amazed, proud and terrified all at the same time at how strong her voice was. “Not that.”

Oliver opened his mouth, his face imploring, before he snapped it shut. He closed his eyes, bowing his head for a moment, before giving her a short nod.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t… Is everyone okay?” he asked instead and the look Felicity gave him was incredulous.

“Is everyone okay?” she repeated slowly. “Like you even care.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed at her tone. “Didn’t Malcolm speak to you?”

“Oh no, don’t worry about that, your assassin bosom buddy did talk to us,” Felicity replied. “And it was awesome hearing about your great plan. Tell me, Oliver, did it involve leaving Sara alone? Taking Lyla right in front of her? _Dangling_ them in front of Diggle like you did?”

“I had to do something to prove my loyalty to Ra’s, Felicity,” Oliver said, frustration coloring his tone and Felicity caught the implication immediately.

“So it was _your_ idea to take Lyla?” she asked, her voice growing small.

Oliver opened his mouth again before he caught himself, and Felicity wanted nothing more than to hear whatever he was going to say.

“Yes,” he finally admitted. She let out a tiny incredulous laugh, shaking her head, backing away from him. He gritted his teeth, pinching his lips before following her. “Fel…” He took a deep breath, changing his words again. “You met Tatsu?”

“What does she have to do with any of this?”

“Tatsu told me that in order to beat Ra’s I would have to sacrifice _all_ of the things in my life that I hold most precious.” He stopped, staring at her, and she shook her head, her mind too numbed by the _pure insanity_ of what was happening around her to follow him. “My friendship with John is on that list.”

“Oliver, you don’t… if this has really been a ruse, this entire time, then how can you not realize the damage you did, to that friendship?”

A flash of regret-filled hurt slipped over his face, there one second and gone the next, so quick she barely caught it, but she did, and Felicity had to fight with every ounce of her being to not step forward, to not offer him comfort…

For that one simple second, he was Oliver, and she was Felicity, and that was what she did when the man she loved was in pain.

But he wasn’t just Oliver.

Not anymore.

“So you’re getting married?” Felicity asked, her voice cracking with unshed tears. “Mazel tov.”

“It wasn’t part of the plan,” Oliver said instantly, the words coming out in a loud exhale. “This was supposed to take _months_ , it wasn’t supposed to lead to… this. To… marriage.”

The word was softly spoken, quiet and unassuming, but it hit Felicity in the chest just as hard as it had when she’d heard it in the throne room.

She looked away from Oliver’s piercing gaze, his eyes begging her to understand, to trust him, to forgive him… but she couldn’t answer that call, not just then.

She saw him shift, like he wanted to move to her, but he didn’t.

And neither did she.

“I kinda thought she batted for my team,” Felicity said absently. Her words only weighed down the tense silence between them even more.

The connection they had forged that night, in this very room… she wouldn’t say it was gone, so much as it was hanging on by the barest of threads… 

She knew it would snap when the ceremony took place, effectively binding him to another woman, taking him away from her completely.

And suddenly what he’d said had a whole new meaning.

“The most precious?” Felicity said, repeating his earlier words. She looked back at him to find him already staring at her, and she said, “To beat Ra’s, you’re sacrificing the most precious things in your life?”

The door to his chamber opened, not giving him time to answer, but she saw it in his eyes:

Yes… You.

“What?” Oliver asked, his eyes never leaving Felicity’s.

“Ra’s demands that we return this woman to her friends.”

Felicity was the first to look away.

She turned, heading towards the door, leaving her future behind her.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/118344297199/so-im-a-hypocrite-or-enabler-probably-both-i)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	7. A Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3x23 spec fic based on promo pics. (Prompt - iwannabewithyou-unsafe asked: "How many fingers am I holding up?")

  
  
  


**“How many fingers am I holding up?”**

Oliver’s eyebrows went up slightly, amusement coloring his face. He didn’t need to look at her hand to see how many fingers she was holding; his eyes never left hers as he said, “Three.”

“You didn’t even look,” Felicity protested, wiggling her fingers before putting her hand behind her back. “How many now?”

The first real smile Oliver had had in days - no, _weeks_ \- tugged at his lips. Like they were both feeling the same thing, Felicity’s lips quirked slightly at the same time, and one of the hooks that had been embedded in his heart since he’d agreed to Merlyn’s plan in the first place released, and suddenly it was a little easier to breath.

“Four,” Oliver guessed and Felicity scrunched her face at him, and his smile grew. “I’m fine, Felicity.” He touched his chin, wincing when his fingers dug right into the welt growing where Diggle had hit him a moment ago. “I deserved it.”

Felicity’s hands dropped back to her side as she stared up at him. “Yeah. You kinda did. But…”

She licked her lips, staring up at him, almost like she was waiting for… something. 

Oliver met her gaze squarely, letting her see _everything_.

He watched the realization dawn on her as he finally let those walls drop, let her into the place where he’d been keeping his love for her; the place he’d gone to when he needed a reminder, where he’d found his salvation night after night, his reason for going on in the dark moments he had existed in all these weeks…

She’d been living inside him the entire time, since the night she said those three magical words… and he opened himself to her again.

She smiled at him.

“It’s not just that though,” Felicity said softly.

Oliver cocked his head in question.

“There’s a lot we need to talk about - and when I say a lot, I actually mean about fifty truck loads of a lot - but…”

Oliver stared at her, waiting, but she didn’t continue.

Instead, she stepped forward, pushing her arms through his and around him. His arms instinctively came up, wrapping around her, loose at first before he gave in, holding her as tightly as he dared.

She squeezed back just as hard, and Oliver’s eyes fluttered shut.

He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent - the scent of _home_ \- and he wrapped his arms around her tighter, his fingers digging into her back, his other hand sliding up into her hair as he felt his body slowly relaxing… finally letting go, letting someone else shoulder some of the burden, even if for a brief second…

“You look like you needed a hug,” Felicity whispered, and she dug her face into his shoulder, inhaling his scent, holding him even tighter.

Another hook deeply embedded in his heart released, and he took another deep breath, his chest lighter.

“Thank you,” Oliver whispered, resting his cheek on her head.

They stayed that way for a long time.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/118393139074/how-many-fingers-am-i-holding-up)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse. Thank you for reading!


	8. He Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post 3x22 spec fic. Oliver's thoughts during Ra's interrogation.

  
  
  
  
([gif source](http://saraognora.tumblr.com/post/118466010941/al-sahhim-acting-very-not-al-sahhim-ish-wifeys))

“How did you know of the virus…”

Oliver stared stiffly at the front of Tatsu’s armor, focusing on keeping his breathing even, his face blank, his body relaxed… as Felicity’s stare burned a hole into his temple. He could practically feel her willing him to look at her, just a glimpse, _something_ , but he knew if he did, if he so much as looked at her the wrong way, for too long, anything, and Ra’s saw it? That would be the end of it, and he had already sacrificed too much, worked too hard, committed too much to let this go… he’d let _her_ go, and he would be damned if he was going to let that go to waste.

The plan had been moving too fast, by leaps and bounds, and he’d scrambled to keep up, but now, being near her again, seeing her, smelling her - all of it reminding him of everything he’d left behind to make this work, everything he’d shoved away, what he’d done…

It couldn’t get over fast enough.

He wanted to tell her, he wanted to reassure her, but he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Still, he had to bite the tip of his tongue, unable to blithely follow Ra’s as he’s spoke to his team, to his family… as he interrogated them with simple, easy words that would have stricken stark fear into anyone’s hearts.

But these people weren’t just anyone.

That was why he’d asked them to come.

Although he should have known it was a farce.

“… of the plane…”

Oliver inhaled slowly, forcing himself to blink as he looked at Ra’s, followed him as he looked from Diggle - the sharp stab of regret hit him right in the gut; he knew what he had done to him, to the man who had become his best friend, his brother, what he had thought about having to potentially do for months before this even started… and he knew it wouldn’t be going away for a long time - and then to Malcolm…

Oliver watched his family’s reaction as Ra’s looked from Malcolm, to Tatus, to Laurel…

To Felicity.

Oliver’s heart stopped when Ra’s didn’t speak. Instead he stared at Felicity for a beat too long - far too long, long enough for Oliver’s veins to tighten in dread and anticipation - before he moved towards her.

Oliver’s grip on his sword’s hilt tightened, and a small squeak came from the worn leather rubbing against his palm. That should have been enough to force him to let go, but he couldn’t… not as he watched Ra’s approach her, like the snake in the grass he had just described… 

He moved with power and grace and the confidence of a man who followed his instincts…

_He knew._

Oliver’s grip tightened, his eyes following Ra’s, and just like the Demon Head knew, Oliver knew that if he so much as said the wrong thing to her, if he lifted a hand towards, if he moved for his sword or if he motioned for the guards to take her, he would strike.

His blood flowed hot under his skin, his cheeks growing flush as his face fell into a dead space that he didn’t have to fake, as the protective roar in his chest built to feverish levels as the most dangerous man in the world stopped before the woman he loved with every fiber of his being… 

And looked at her with the knowledge that he knew she was part of this.

And Felicity - his beautiful, strong, steadfast Felicity - didn’t blink. She met his gaze head-on, even as her shoulders trembled, even as her eyes widened with the same realization.

The moment lasted for a thousands years as much as it lasted for a split second, and when Ra’s cocked his head, his eyes drilling into Felicity’s, Oliver’s hand was already lifting his blade, ready to shove it through him… when Tatus spoke.

And just as quickly the tension in the room evaporated as Tatus took the blame. The blame that nobody in the room believed for a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/118654687184/saraognora-al-sahhim-acting-very-not-al)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	9. The Real Oliver Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Flash 3x22 spec fic. Iris' point of view watching Oliver and Felicity's reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Anonymous asked: ok so this has been in my head for a while now (olicity prompt): oliver is making an appearance on flash 1x22 as al sah-him w/ atom/flash/firestorm to team up against reverse flash. so how about a fic where felicity is there to help barry as well and she sees oliver and is SUPER shocked but then snaps out of it cause he kisses her in front of all the other superheros there and team flarrow+ronnie+iris+ray are like *woah* ! (bonus pts for iris's POV cause she doesn't know oliver that well).

When Iris West had chosen Oliver Queen as one of the special few on her List, it had been long before his boat went down in the China Sea, long before he went missing for five years only to reappear with his entire lack of a survival story, and way before what she liked to call ‘The Screwable Scruff’ stage.

It was long before he showed up in Central City, long before she knew Barry knew him (the thought of which, admittedly, kept her up at night because the _how_ of that had escaped her… until now, at least), and long before she got to be in the same room as him.

Iris was a practical woman, or so she liked to think; she didn’t get flustered around celebrities. She’d had dreams about being a journalist for as long as she could remember, she was more than prepared to handle the glam of being around people who lived their lives in the spotlight.

But Oliver Queen wasn’t a celebrity.

He was _Oliver freaking Queen_. 

And he was a man she knew absolutely _nothing_ about.

He was a man who was famous for having too much money to do anything but party with. He was a man who had a really bad thing happen to him, only to miraculously survive. He was a man who had lost his family, who had lost his business because he wasn’t adequately equipped for it.

He was human. An absolutely gorgeous human, but so very human…

Oliver Queen wasn’t supposed to be the Arrow.

And he wasn’t supposed to be standing on this rooftop, wearing a blank look, a quiver strapped to his back, a heavy bow in one hand, dressed in a terrifying black uniform that Barry had mentioned in passing…

_“Oh, yeah, he, uh… he was sort of supposed to be the next boss guy of the League of Assassins. Which he isn’t. That sort of fell through.”_

_“The League of Assassins?”_

_“Yeah. Trippy, right?”_

_“And that’s… what he wears?”_

_“All the assassin guys I saw do… Oh, yeah, I took a quick run to Nanda Parbat for five seconds, Oliver had sort of fake-poisoned his team so I went to, uh, bust ‘em out. Because he’d put them in the dungeon. Long story, but he’s fine. I’m sure he just didn’t have time to change.”_

… and having just helped Barry and Ronnie take down Wells.

What was her life?

They all stood in a loose circle, talking, faces grim but hopeful, because Wells hadn’t gone down easily, and not without throwing a handful of colorful suggestive threats about the future at them…

Right, another thing to keep getting used to - Wells was from the future… and his name was actually Thawne… and…

And she might need a drink when she got home because it had been a long, long day - Eddie was still spinning about the entire ordeal, although something else had him slipping back into putting up walls between them again, ever since he’d gotten away from Wells - and the only reason she was up here was because Wells had dragged her up, to use her as leverage against Barry.

He hadn’t expected the help Barry brought with him…

Definitely a night for a margarita.

Despite herself, Iris’ eyes kept switching over to Oliver. He was different, even from the last time she’d seen him in Central City, when he’d visited with Felicity. He was more reserved, more withdrawn. He looked sad, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and tired…

Iris vaguely heard the sound of the footsteps slapping the metal stairs in the stairwell leading up to the roof, and they got louder and louder. The trio paused where they stood over Wells’ dead body - where they’d been deciding what to do with it and what the next step should be because Barry was still talking about going _back in time_ to save his mom - when the door burst open.

Felicity stumbled out, followed by a large man with arms the size of her waist, Ray and a woman dressed in all black, wearing a platinum blonde wig.

Felicity paused long enough to briefly survey the scene before her eyes found Oliver’s.

It was like someone struck the rooftop with lightning the second their eyes met.

Iris took a step forward instinctively, her hand going up to stop Felicity for reasons she didn’t want to explain to herself but Felicity was already moving towards him. Iris glanced at Barry, at Ronnie, at all of them, but none of them moved, nobody said anything as Felicity reached Oliver and then… they just stood there.

Iris held her breath… and released it in a sharp exhale that had Barry turning to look at her as she watched the change in Oliver Queen.

Gone was the cold, terrifying man she’d just been studying - the man she’d just been wondering how she could have not seen when she’d met him, when she’d seen him on the news - and in his place was… was _Oliver Queen_.

Iris stared, astonishment slowly fading away to amazement as he literally changed before her eyes.

Felicity whispered something, too low for Iris to hear, and Oliver blinked, looking stunned. Iris watched as Felicity lifted her hand towards him, but then she changed her mind, hesitancy having her pulling her hand back…

But then Oliver - definitely Oliver, most definitely the man who had made her List before she even realized _why_ he was on her List besides being ridiculously good-looking - dropped his bow, and it landed with a heavy clunk on the ground, and he snatched Felicity’s hand in his, tangling his fingers with hers…

And then he pulled her into his arms as he stepped forward, and he _kissed her_.

Iris’ jaw dropped as Oliver swallowed Felicity’s shocked noise, wrapping himself around her like he wanted nothing more than to do exactly what he was doing for the rest of his life.

Iris watched the withdrawn man suddenly open up, his presence filling the space as he kissed the woman who was the key to Oliver Queen.

“Wow,” Iris whispered, her chest actually hurting as Felicity’s shock dissipated and then she grabbed him just as fiercely, returning the kiss with just as much passion.

“Yeah,” Barry said, and Iris jumped, not having heard him move. His eyes were on the couple as he smirked. “You would not believe the denial bubble those two have been living in.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/118673270589/ok-so-this-has-been-in-my-head-for-a-while-now)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse. Thank you for reading!


	10. I Was Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3x23 spec fic. What Oliver was dreaming about...

“I don’t know why you’re so nervous. You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You’re fidgeting.”

Oliver slid her an annoyed glance before opening the door to Diggle and Lyla’s building, holding it for her as he balanced two glass wine bottles in his other arm. The bottles clinked together obnoxiously, slipping against his leather jacket like they _wanted_ to smash into the ground; Oliver caught the one in the crook of his arm before it could fall as he followed her into the apartment lobby. She turned, holding her hand out for one but he held them away from her and she rolled her eyes.

“Oliver, you have nothing to be nervous about. It’s not like we’re telling our parents.”

“I’m not nervous. I’m just… Thea’s going to be here, and Roy, and…” Oliver took a deep breath. “Alright, maybe I’m a little nervous.”

Felicity’s hand found his shoulder before they reached the elevator bank, pulling him to a stop. He looked over her head for a second, trying to calm his racing heart, and she cupped his face, pulling him back down to her.

A soft smile pulled at her lips, and the sight of it set him at ease almost instantly as she said, “It’s going to be fine. It’s admittedly happening a little fast, but when have we ever done anything halfway? The answer is literally never, Oliver. And besides, it’s not like we exactly went into this completely half-cocked.” Oliver let out a breath laugh and Felicity huffed. “I didn’t mean it like _that_.”

“Well, it is sort of how we got into this mess,” Oliver replied as Felicity hit the button. An elevator was already waiting, the indicator above the doors lighting up as they slid open.

“And it’s an awesome mess,” Felicity said, hitting the button for the Diggles’ floor before pausing. “Did you just call this a mess?”

Oliver grinned, shaking his head, his hands suddenly steady as he rearranged the bottles so he could reach for his wife, his arm sliding around her waist. He pulled her into his side, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You said so yourself, it would be boring if it wasn’t a little messy.”

“Oh, it’s gonna be messy,” Felicity said, wrapping her fingers in the lapel of his jacket, turning her face up to press a soft kiss to his throat. “So messy.”

He chuckled. The elevator dinged when they reached their floor and they stepped off together, arms still wrapped around the other.

Felicity didn’t give him a second to take a breath, reaching out to knock firmly on the apartment door.

“Ready?” she whispered, and he thought about shaking his head… before the idea of that just sounded plain stupid.

Because he _was_ ready.

It was definitely a little fast, and things had sort of hit the ground running between them, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Ready,” he whispered back, smiling down at her. She returned it and he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, tasting the annoyingly goopy strawberry lip gloss she’d found in her purse that night just as the door opened.

“Oh, come on, you guys, my eyes are still burning from the last time we were here,” Roy said, immediately stepping back, holding the door open wide to let them in.

“Oh, you mean like that one time I walked in on you and Thea in the Arrow Cave?” Felicity replied.

Oliver’s eyes narrowed at Roy.” What?” 

Roy shot Felicity a look. “And thanks for that.”

“Anytime,” Felicity replied sweetly, slipping her jacket off before taking the bottles from Oliver.

The apartment was filled to the brim with chatter, clinking glasses, dishes being arranged, Sara playing in the background, laughter. The smell of dinner permeated the air as Diggle came around the corner.

“You two are late,” he said, pressing a kiss to Felicity’s cheek before clapping a heavy hand on Oliver’s shoulder.

“This time it wasn’t me,” Oliver replied as Felicity said, “It’s not even that late,” before his words caught up with her and she shot him an affronted look. Diggle chuckled at the sheepish shrug Oliver gave her 

He held his hands out for the bottles Felicity held, glancing at the labels, noting the red wine and the…

Diggle stopped, his brow furrowing.

“Is this…” He looked at Felicity, who was staring at him with wide eyes and then at Oliver who was not trying that hard to fight back a grin. “Is this what I think it is?”

“That sort of depends on what you’re thinking…”

“You know damn well what I’m thinking, Smoak,” he said, joy decorating every inch of his tone as he turned to yell, “Lyla!” before yanking Felicity into a bear hug, wrapping his arms around her as he laughed. He heard his wife come out along with Thea, Oliver telling them the good news - “We’re having a baby” - and the squeals of delight, the glass bottles of red wine and sparkling cider catching the light in the room…

… Oliver woke with a start, sitting up quickly, the images still burned in his mind’s eye, a grotesque mix of the cargo plane they were on and John and Lyla’s living room.

He could still hear his sister and his wi… Felicity’s laughter, echoing in his ear…

“You were asleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/118825367399/thecwarrow-al-sah-hims-ascension-to-ras-al)
> 
>  
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse. Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and please let me know what you thought, I don’t often venture into canon ficlets. Reviews literally feed my muse and soul.


End file.
